Seismic Proportions
by DBShazz
Summary: Some things you can escape on your own, but others need a little extra help. One-shot. PhoenixMiles M for language.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Ace Attorney. Or Miles Edgeworth (though I wish I did) and Phoenix Wright. Also no other characters. How could I own a multi-million dollar company that started when I was like, two years old? Jeezy creezy. -.-;_

_Title: Seismic Proportions_

_Pairing: PhoenixMiles_

_Warnings: shonen ai (guy love, people!)_

_Summary: Some things you can escape on your own, but others need a little extra help._

_Enjoy this one-shot! :D Prompt: Phoenix caring for Miles! =D He can be scared, or sick, it doesn't matter! As long as there's caring. 3_

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Paperwork had to be the spawn of the devil, I was sure.

It sat scattered about on my desk like the aftermath of a tornado, half filled in with ugly pencil scrawl that could barely be called writing. At the bottom of every page, I was forced to work my hand into the letters that spell "Phoenix W.". Some pages were crumpled up by my too-big hands, and tossed at, not _into, _the wastebasket in an attempt to have a little fun, though I'd forgotten how terrible my athletic skills were. This included my aim.

And every few minutes or so, my mind would stray off course like it just had, like a train veering out the track but destined to crash eventually.

Too much paperwork.

"Good morning!"

That voice was much too chipper for my not-a-morning-guy tastes. Maya slammed the door to the office too hard, creating a too loud _bang _for my too sensitive ears to endure.

More like terrible morning.

"Got any of that done yet, Nick?" she asked, genuinely curious. Maya's eyes were bright and excited for the day, unlike my own, which a glance in the mirror told me of the dark circles and bloodshot veins.

"It'd me done faster if you helped me," I snapped, my patience a short fuse this morning.

"Jeez," Maya complained. "No need to be snarky!"

Snarky. _Goddamn it, _I _hated _that word.

She dispensed two mugs of espresso out of Mia's old coffee maker and handed me one, assuming that I'd be less fussy after some morning coffee. It was black, with no cream or sugar, because I'd learned quickly that coffee should be black as a moonless night, and hotter and more bitter than hell itself.

I raised the white mug to my lips, preparing for that first shot of caffeine. The dark liquid swished around more than necessary, and I tried to get my hand to stop shaking. Except it wasn't shaking.

Everything else was. We were in the middle of a common Los Angeles earthquake.

Oh. Oh _shit!_

_"Shit, shit, shit!" _I cursed, leaping up from the desk and throwing my blue jacket over my head in preparation for the rain outside. In my haste, and the quake, the hot black coffee spilled all over my white dress shirt, but I didn't care. I needed to get someplace _fast._

Things fell from the shelves and the desk as I ran from the room, with Maya yelling in confusion. My shoes slapped down on the wet pavement, leaving me fucking _wishing _I had gotten that driver's license. My jacket was not waterproof, and the pouring rain was seeping through. The shaking hadn't stopped as I hopped onto that old bike and pedaled down the street as fast as Louie Armstrong. Through the drenching downpour, to the High Prosecutor's Office.

I didn't glance back once at my bike thrown down in the parking lot, nor the security guard frowning at my sopping wet clothes. My shoes squeaked as I rounded the corner to the stairway, remembering not to take the elevator.

Each step couldn't seem to be reached fast enough as I propelled up the stairs. Every one I cleared, there seemed to be another added and I was going _nowhere._

Finally, a door.

I yanked it open, incredibly lucky the deadbolt had not been latched. Throwing myself into the office, I slammed the door behind me, plunging the room into complete blackness.

_"Miles?!" _I called out frantically, hoping desperately that he hadn't been out somewhere in the rain. Not a sound for a reply as I searched the room in the dark.

A tiny movement. A whimper.

My head snapped up. "Miles?"

No answer.

I quietly stepped in the direction I heard the noise, my sopping shoes squelching under my feet. I was now near the window, beside the gorgeous, expensive teaset that I so secretly admired.

Lightning flashed, and in that second, illuminated the room, including under his desk. And I sat the curled up figure of Miles Edgeworth against the solid mahogany.

"Miles!"

I rushed toward him, and he didn't look up. The embrace was small and comforting. And wet. And coffee-smelling. But comforting, nonetheless. I whispered quiet reassurances to him, my hand skimming his side as I hugged the trembling body of my childhood friend.

_"Leave me be," _his muffled but broken voice tried to protest. But of course, I couldn't obey.

After a few minutes, I tentatively reached under his chin with an index finger to raise his face.

Tears still gathered in his steel-grey eyes, but I wiped them away with a thumb. "It's alright," I murmured. My lips had found their way to his, and pressed gently in a sweet kiss.

"I'm here."

My fingers stroked though his silvery tresses. Hopefully, no more aftershocks. I had seen more myself what DL-6 had done for Miles, leaving him a broken man. It was like a knife to the heart for me, to see him with his scars bared.

Miles kissed him back, with as much tenderness as a stone-hard man could share. And it was enough, because Miles knew how much I cared, and he cared twice as much for me.


End file.
